Hollywood Dirty: A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller

by M. Z. Kelly

  “It’s a quiet area, a place to wind down and forget your troubles.” He motioned back to the studio. “All of it’s still a work in progress, but eventually I’d like to move some of my classes from the university here. I can roll out of bed and go to work.”

  “That sounds ideal to me.”

  He came closer to me. “Would you like to try a couple of poses?”

  I was dressed in a dark pantsuit, not the new outfit I’d originally bought for the occasion. “I’ve got a change of clothes in my car. Maybe later.”

  After the tour we ended up back in the kitchen where Brian put the finishing touches on a pasta salad. I sat on a barstool in front of the kitchen’s marble island and Bernie settled on the floor next to me as our host tossed the dish.

  “I got us a bottle of pinot from Spain,” Brian said, moving over to the refrigerator. “It’s from a vineyard I visited while on holiday there last year. I think you’ll like it.” He worked on the cork, then looked over at me. “I’m sorry, I should have said something earlier. I saw the terrible news about what happened to the Roses yesterday and their son being arrested.”

  I studied his face for a moment, seeing nothing in the way of compassion. I realized the man in front of me was in many ways as cold and austere as the home in which he lived.

  “It was a very long day,” I said. “A sad ending to very tragic story.”

  He poured the wine and handed a glass over to me. His voice ticked up a notch. “I don’t suppose you’re any closer to knowing what happened to Jezzie?”

  My eyes fixed on him. “Actually Brian, I think I’ve solved the case. I’m pretty sure I know everything that happened.”

  “Really?” He tipped his glass up, set it down, and leaned back against the white kitchen countertop. “Can you tell me about it?”

  I set my wine aside without touching it. “Actually, I think you can help me tell the story.”

  His brows knitted. His words took on a measured quality. “Really? I’m not sure I understand what you mean?”

  I glanced at Bernie for an instant. His gaze came up to me on alert, a silent signal that we shared. My eyes then narrowed on Hamlin again.

  “I mentioned to you the other night that Jezzie was taking steroids, something called MTP.” I saw his eyes bouncing back and forth as I talked. It was a tell, something that I’d seen other suspects do when they’re trying to decide how to evade the truth. “The drug is undetectable but it raises the red blood cell count, something that NADA, the anti-doping agency, routinely tests for.”

  Hamlin folded his arms across his chest. His jaw muscles jumped. “I don’t recall hearing that Jezzie ever had a positive test.”

  I stared at him, unblinking. “We both know there’s a reason for that.”

  His body stiffened. “I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

  I looked at my purse that was on the barstool next to me, making sure my weapon was within reach, before fixing my gaze on him again. “When I was at Jezzie’s parents’ house yesterday I saw a photograph in their office. It was a picture of you with Al Rose and WU’s athletic director, Tom Baylor.”

  “It was probably taken at one of the school’s track meets.”

  “Maybe. But there was someone else in the photograph, a woman named Carly Nichols. She’s your half-sister. Carly’s a physician who works for NADA.”

  Hamlin’s eyes shifted away from me for an instant, then came back. “Are you trying to insinuate…”

  “I’m not insinuating anything. I’m stating facts. Jezzie Rose was able to beat the doping tests because she had inside information on when and how the testing would occur. Your sister provided that information to Tom Baylor who was working with Jezzie’s father behind the scenes to game the system. It all went as planned for a couple of years until something changed.”

  Hamlin’s voice took on a strained quality. “What are you trying to say? None of this makes any sense.”

  Bernie stood up as the conversation grew more intense. “When we were at the university a few days ago you told me that Shane Mumford was helping you with your classes so that he could pursue Jezzie. That was true. But their relationship never went anywhere. That’s because there was someone else already involved with Jezzie—you.”

  “What?” He laughed. “This is nonsense.”

  “Before Barry Ralston died, he told me that someone was stalking Jezzie. You were that someone. You secretly pursued Jezzie until you finally wore her down. And you had a very good reason for keeping your relationship a secret.”

  “This is quite the story you’re spinning, but it’s simply not true.”

  I went on, ignoring him. “One of the former assistants from your yoga class who you fired, Cindy Burch, told me this morning that you were very persistent in going after Jezzie. You were the one providing gifts to her until she finally agreed to go out with you. That was around the same time that Jezzie and Barry were having problems and broke off their engagement.”

  Hamlin swallowed. His voice pitched up again. “Okay, so we had a couple of dates. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Why don’t you help me tell the rest of the story, Brian? How Al Rose funneled money, lots of Jezzie’s money, to you in exchange for getting Carly’s help in beating the doping tests. How Jezzie got pregnant and then told her father that she was through with running. How she also told him that she didn’t know what the effects of MTP would be on her unborn baby so she would no longer take the drug. When that happened, everything unraveled.”

  I glanced down and saw the change in Bernie, the low, almost inaudible deep growl.

  I went on. “Jezzie’s father became enraged at what she told him. So enraged that he beat her up. The next day she miscarried, lost the baby.”

  Hamlin shook his head. “If she was pregnant I didn’t know anything about it.”

  “Of course you did, Brian. After Jezzie lost the baby you knew that she became despondent. She then made a decision. Jezzie planned to go to the authorities and tell everything. She was going to admit that she’d taken performance enhancing drugs and that your sister had helped her beat the system.

  Hamlin’s body tensed, his anger surfacing. “You’re just making things up, engaging in pure speculation.”

  “Jezzie’s father would never let her tell the truth, expose everything. Her legacy was important to him, more important than his daughter’s life. So, together you both made a decision. You decided to kill Jezzie to protect her legacy and your sister.

  “You knew that Shane Mumford was helping with your yoga classes because he was attracted to Jezzie. You made arrangements for him to go out with Jezzie on a couple of occasions, telling her that Shane was just an old friend of yours from school. After they went to lunch you began spreading false rumors in your classes and around campus that Jezzie and Shane were in a relationship. Once you’d established a connection between Shane and Jezzie you used that connection to frame him by planting the murder weapon in his locker.”

  What I had to say next was speculation but I was pretty sure what had happened. “A few days ago you also murdered Chucky Wilson because you were afraid that he’d eventually tell us about Jezzie’s doping. You tried to frame Bix for the murder, leaving the scene on a motorcycle identical to the one he rides. You were making plans to kill Bix so that he wouldn’t talk.”

  I watched as Hamlin’s face changed. His eyes narrowed and darkened. His brow became pinched, the muscles in his jaw tightening. Something dangerous and primitive was surfacing. “That’s quite the story. But proving it will be another matter.”

  “I don’t think it will be all that difficult. When I went over a list of employees who worked for the doping agency and realized that your sister worked there, I had a little chat with her this morning. Carly admitted everything, even providing details about your admission to her that you killed Jezzie.”

  The moment I said the words, Brian Hamlin reached over and grabbed a carving knife from a holder on the kitchen co
unter. He was off, sprinting down the hallway. I turned to Bernie and gave him the German attack command, “Fass!”

  I followed behind with my gun out, giving Charlie and Eric Glade who were on the street the go signal over the wire I was wearing. “Suspect is running. I’m in pursuit. Move in now.”

  I charged down the hall after the killer and my dog. The lights in the house suddenly went out. I heard a door slamming and realized that Hamlin must have gone into the backyard from his studio.

  I stumbled after Bernie as we found our way into the darkened yoga studio. I saw that the door to the backyard was open. Bernie was charging out into the yard when the door suddenly slammed shut behind him, trapping my dog outside. I realized that Hamlin had been behind the door and was still in the darkened room.

  My attacker charged me, knocking the gun from my hand. I then felt a piercing pain in my left shoulder. I called out as the room began to spin. I fell to the floor. Something sticky was on my arm. Blood!

  I fought against the growing darkness. My eyelids fluttered open. I saw moonlight shining in from the high windows of the yoga studio. I turned my head and looked into the eyes of a killer.

  And then his knife came down again.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  The instant Brian Hamlin’s knife plunged down at me I twisted away from him and rolled across the floor. It was one of those instinctual moves that I’d been trained on for years. The pain of my wound disappeared as my mind focused on the dynamics of close quarter combat, my training now taking over.

  Manage the risk. Breathe. Control your fear. Survey the surroundings. Use the environment to your advantage.

  The yoga mats! I realized that I could use a mat to protect myself and ward off the blows from my attacker’s knife.

  I gathered my strength and kicked out at my opponent again, rolling away from him. I then pulled a mat up off the floor. Outside the room I heard Bernie. He was barking, clawing against the door as he tried to get back inside.

  From across the studio I locked eyes with the killer as he moved toward me again. He called out, his voice deep and menacing. “You’re going to die, Detective. And I’ll make sure it’s slow and painful, not the way I killed Jezzie.”

  I gasped in a breath, found my voice. “There are officers on the street. They’re coming for you now. Give yourself up.”

  “Nice try. But lies won’t save you.”

  He came at me again, this time throwing his body weight against the mat that I held up for protection. I blocked the advance and spun away. I knew that if I could reach the door and let Bernie back inside I had a chance.

  I went for the door but Hamlin was too fast, pushing against it as I turned the knob. I spun away from him again, but felt my strength fading. He came at me, his hand slicing out with the knife.

  The room began spinning again, sights and sounds assailing me.

  The knife coming down. The mat blocking it. Bernie barking. A sudden splintering sound. A flash of movement. A cry. A deep growl. Screaming. Something on the floor, catching the light from the window. A blade. Hamlin had dropped the knife!

  I reached out, my hand closing around the handle of the knife. I moved forward as my big dog went for Hamlin who was now on the ground. I found Bernie’s collar and used my last bit of strength, pulling him back.

  I arched my back, my arms swinging up over my head. Energy became concentrated; a fuse of cellular power igniting inside me that had one purpose—to kill my adversary.

  The knife came crashing down, aimed at Hamlin’s face. He pushed away but the blade glanced off something solid, maybe collarbone. There was a scream as his hands come up to me, grabbing my shoulders before wrapping around my neck.

  I twisted away, raising and then lowering the dagger again. I heard a viscous scream as my target’s hands released their grip on me at the same time Bernie clamped down on him. I brought the knife down again and again. The weapon found its mark, the point of the blade pushing through skin and muscle until it reached bone again.

  More screams split the air. Blood sprayed up at me, splattering back into my face and hair. It was all adrenaline and survival now as my blade tore away at flesh, seeking to kill the evil thing writhing in the dim light beneath me.

  I heard Charlie’s voice as he came down the hallway, calling out. The light of the world flickered and began to fade, a syrup of darkness enveloping me. My reservoir of energy was now on empty. I felt myself drifting away.

  In the shadow of that moment a figure reached out and took my hand. It was a young woman. She smiled at me and then gently pushed me back toward the light.

  My last bit of breath was shallow and rapid as I called out to her, “Thank-you, Jezzie.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  A month after my encounter with Brian Hamlin I left Bernie at home and stopped by the station late on a Friday to meet with Lieutenant Edna and make arrangements to return to work the following Monday.

  I’d recovered from my wound without any permanent damage after a couple of days in the hospital, but I’d taken time off to regain my strength and try to heal my psyche over the losses I’d endured, both on and off the job.

  Brian Hamlin had also survived the encounter. He had taken Shane Mumford’s place in jail, facing charges for the murder of Jezzie Rose and Chucky Wilson, as well as assault on a peace officer.

  “We subpoenaed the bank records,” Edna said, sliding my copy of the signed return to work paperwork across his desk to me. “Hamlin and his sister each received in excess of a million dollars in payouts from Al Rose who was managing his daughter’s endorsement deals. Carly Nichols has been fired from NADA and is facing multiple counts of conspiracy and bribery.”

  I put the paperwork in my purse and said, “I wanted to ask Bix a couple of things, so I stopped by Men’s Central Jail this morning. He told me that he had no idea his sister and Brian Hamlin were involved. My guess is that Hamlin wanted their relationship kept secret so that he could distance himself from any possibility that someone might make a connection between rumors of Jezzie’s steroid usage and his sister using her influence on the doping panel.”

  “I got a feeling Hamlin was a real control freak.”

  “Bix also told me that he thought Chucky Wilson was dealing steroids to Barry Ralston at the same time Wilson supplied Jezzie. According to Bix, Wilson and Ralston were buddies for a while. Barry probably used Jeremy Shulman to threaten Terry Gibson when he was trying to get back together with Jezzie. I think Ralston eventually found out about Jezzie’s relationship with Hamlin through Wilson and planned to tell me about it when he was killed.”

  Edna pushed some papers into his briefcase. “Any way you look at it Hamlin’s San Quinton bound on two murder one charges. It’s just too bad the courts won’t let us turn the gas back on in the death chamber. The needle’s too fucking good for him.”

  After leaving Edna’s office I found Charlie in the squad room at his desk reading the newspaper. I took a seat across from him. “Working hard, partner?”

  “Hardly working.” He put the paper down. “I was just reading Haley Tristan’s recap of the Jezzie Rose case. It looks like The Beast has been kissing a lot of ass. She went pretty easy on us, even gave you some kudos for taking down the bad guy.”

  “I owe it all to Bernie.”

  “How is the big guy?”

  “He’s enjoyed the time off. We’ve taken lots of long walks in the park. I think the down time has been good for both of us to try and unwind, deal with everything.”

  What I didn’t tell Charlie is that I’d spent a couple of weeks dealing with depression over what had happened to my birthmother. While I was better now, the impact of never being able to talk to her had struck at the center of my being. I knew that healing from that loss would be a long term process.

  “So Monday it’s back in the shark tank,” Charlie said, changing the subject and motioning to Jessica Barlow who looked like she’d already packed up for the day and was leaving the stat
ion.

  I glanced at my in-basket that was overflowing. I started to sort through the mound of paperwork but then thought better of it. “Any problems with Jessica?”

  Charlie shrugged, dipped a paw into a bag of chips. “She filed another complaint over our confrontation last month. The usual nonsense about harassment.” He munched. “How’s the shoulder?”

  “Good as new. I think I can even throw a punch if Jessica gets out of line.”

  “I ran into your mom at the store a few weeks back. She was with that fruitcake boyfriend of hers.”

  “We made up but I’m trying to stay clear of Shumi. I don’t know what she sees in that idiot.” I noticed that Charlie looked tired, but that wasn’t unusual. “So how’s your love life?”

  “Wilma and me are history. She went back to her old boyfriend.”

  “Really?” Maybe he’d been right about men and women not being able to be friends, after all. “What about Gladys?”

  “She kept calling and I agreed to go out a couple more times. She proposed to me last week.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “I had to cut her loose. I’m not ready for anything permanent.”

  “That’s probably a good thing. I can’t see you getting married again.”

  Charlie dug into the bag of chips again. “Me neither. I had a talk with Pearl the other day about the stress of the job. I’m going take a few weeks off this fall, maybe do a little fishing. I think I’m getting closer to pulling the plug.”

  “Retirement?”

  He nodded. “I need to get out of here before I’m carried out.”

  “I’d hate to see you go, but I understand. I just hope I don’t get Jessica as my new partner.”

  I looked up as the brothers came out of the conference room, followed by Pearl and Lieutenant Edna.

  Kyle Gooch, who had made a full recovery, led the way as they all came over to me.

  “Kate, my sister of the wounded brotherhood.” Gooch paused, giving me the once over. “I gotta say that new do makes you hotter than ever.”